


Judgments

by rather_crassly



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rather_crassly/pseuds/rather_crassly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place a couple of years before the manga and anime start. Medusa is spying at Shibusen, and working as their school nurse. Maka has no partner yet, but is training hard to prepare for it. The two have barely met, but they've already managed to cause trouble for each other. What triggered Maka's animosity, and how is Medusa going to wriggle her way out of it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Judgments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [This work was written for une_pomme_folle](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=This+work+was+written+for+une_pomme_folle).



Maka was lying down, but she certainly wasn't relaxed. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the office ceiling, and her small hands were fisted at her sides. You could partly blame her tension on pain, since a nurse was swabbing antiseptic on her raw and scraped left shin. But an observer would have noticed the unnatural silence and realized that something else was up. The nurse was helping her, but the girl radiated resentment.  
  
Maka had banged herself up badly; there was an oozing red stripe running from kneecap to ankle, as well as scraped palms and elbows. Her gym shirt and shorts hadn't offered much protection when she'd fallen. Her hair was a remarkable mess, rumpled and tufted in several directions. It seemed to have been in a worse accident than the girl herself.  
  
The nurse, a cool blonde by the name of Medusa Gorgon, twisted on her stool to reach for a pair of tweezers.  "There is debris lodged under the skin; I have to remove it. This will hurt." She flicked on a gooseneck lamp and focused light on the area, then looked up, implement held ready. "Maka?"  
  
"Yes!" Maka said loudly. "Go ahead, I'm absolutely fine."  
  
Medusa regarded the girl's skinny battered body, stretched out stiff as a stick and faintly trembling. "What's wrong? Is the pain too much? I can inject a painkilling compound."  
  
"No, go ahead. Um, please. And thank you." She continued staring at the ceiling.  
  
"Oh, I'd save any thanks until this is over," Medusa said wryly. "Speak up if you need me to stop."  
  
Maka's only response was to tense up even more and set her jaw. She wouldn't accept reassurance or anaesthetic now, Medusa knew, and she would choke back any complaint. Maka was that sort of child; the merest hint that she might have a weakness was enough to send her into a windup soldier's march of self-reliance. She also had a chip on her shoulder at the moment.  
  
Medusa had been at Shibusen for a little more than a month, working double duty as student nurse and spy. She'd had just enough time to relax into her role, and make offhand inquiries about acquiring her own laboratory. That request had been made to Lord Death himself.  
  
"Oh, no reason; I like to replicate tests from medical journals. I can't let my skills get rusty, not when I'm fresh out of school! And I must have ten different boxes of equipment that I carted along with me. If I put it in the office, there'd be no room for myself or your students. You see, I'm very careful with my labware, and I've been collecting some of the more unusual pieces for years. I even have a two-hundred-year-old alembic, and there’s not a scratch on it."  
  
It was about at that point in her hiring interview that Lord Death had become less interested in her and more interested in the contents of his teacup, the view from his window, and the enticing-looking exit that would take him away from her chatter. And she had been chattering; partly from nerves and the rest an effort to bore him until he dismissed her. She'd laid out well-planned lies and was disguised in soul and body, but if he had caught on to her nature, she would have had to run for her life.  
  
She’d been telling the truth about the alembic, however. It was well over two hundred years old. She ought to know, she’d watched while it was made.  
  
After the stress of the interview, everything had seemed easy. She made contacts and introduced herself to everyone, borrowing pencils and offering baked goods. It was difficult to speak to Shibusen faculty face-to-face and pretend that they were strangers, when she had a dossier on every one of them. It took presence of mind. She had been so sweet and diffident, smiling until her face ached, and still, she had somehow put her foot into a messy family argument.  
  
Of course she'd anticipated problems with Spirit, but she'd calculated that a crisp, competent attitude would chill his womanizing inclinations. But apparently, the man had a special place in his idiot heart for the Unattainable Woman. Which he had proceeded to express, both vocally and physically, with his seething young daughter not a dozen feet away. Afterward, every greeting and overture at conversation had been met with clipped answers and a glare from the angry girl.  
  
This next part will be delicate, Medusa thought as she cleaned Maka's wound. Maka was the sort of girl who made friends with both adults and children, and she had a definite influence over her father. If Maka disliked Medusa, then she could trigger distrust in a dozen other people. Medusa had no intention of letting her reputation turn sour, not from such a stupid incident. It was too early in the game.  
  
It was possible that Medusa’s concerns might be groundless. Spirit Albarn was the most powerful Death Scythe, but his mind was not as sharp as his weapon form, and he was not gifted with powerful Soul Perception. And Maka was not old enough to be an enemy, even if she had inherited his talents. She didn’t even have a fighting partner yet. However, you could never be too careful, and why not repair the damage right now? It was a golden opportunity.  
  
Medusa bent over again and began to probe at raw flesh. "You seem upset."  
  
"I'm just embarrassed. I can't believe I fell down five little stairs! But my leg just folded up on me." She stopped picking at her thumb, stretched her arm out and then flopped it across her chest with a sigh. "Everyone else jumps down the whole thing."  
  
"Overexertion causes muscle cramps." Medusa picked out a fleck of grit and wiped the tweezers on a gauze pad. "I think you ran for too long or neglected to cool down and stretch properly. How long were you out there? I would think most students would have gone home by--" She looked up at the clock-- "nearly eight at night."  
  
"I've upped my training. We'll be paired up with weapons in the next couple of weeks. Even if I--well, no matter who I'm paired with, my legs ought to be a lot stronger."  
  
Medusa thought about Maka's present build, and wondered how the girl thought that a few days’ work would make much difference.  
  
"I approve of your determination.” And she did, though this girl's personal drive was probably ruined by myriad mindless rules. "But you shouldn't train to exhaustion, and y-"  
  
"I also didn't feel like going home," Maka said angrily.  
  
Ooh, Medusa thought, there's a challenge to a duel if ever I've heard one. Why not. But first I think I'll needle you a bit. You're a sharp little thing, smarter than you know--you know that you don't trust me, you just aren't quite sure why. You and your kind can never hang onto distrust or anger long enough to make good use of it. I can get you to lower your defenses. All I have to do is make it seem as if you're the one in the wrong.  
  
"All right then, I thought this subject would be broached sooner or later," Medusa sighed, sounding dignified but wounded. "Give me a moment while I finish."  
  
She set the tweezers down and picked up an aerosol can, beginning to spray Maka's shin with something white and powdery. Her hand moved slowly up the leg and down, and the silence stretched out, seeming more and more ominous; after seven seconds, Medusa could see visible evidence of Maka's stress, where the girl's hard heartbeat fluttered the cloth of her shirt.  
  
Maka sat up a little to observe the procedure, and cautiously raised her eyes to Medusa's face; Medusa was occupied with her handiwork and did not seem to notice. Maka turned her head away, bit her lip for a moment, then lifted her chin and turned back as if she was going to say something. Then she stopped very still because Medusa was looking at her now, and her face was stern.  
  
"I don't know what is happening with you and your father at home." Technically true; she didn't know as much as she should have. "But you must know I had no intention of making things worse.”  
  
"I want you to know that I don't blame you for being angry with me. I understand your reaction, possibly better than you do yourself. But we must push past it, and learn to work together. And I might add that it's immature to hold an innocent person responsible for another person's actions. For instance, I don't blame you for the way your father behaved around me. Should I accuse you of some flaw or fault, because he caused a scene? I could, but I haven't. Doesn’t that make sense?"  
  
This reversed guilt had plainly never crossed Maka's mind. She looked startled but quizzical too, and if she'd been older she would have realized that she was being tied in a knot. Medusa continued before Maka could realize that something was off-balance with the argument.  
  
Medusa leaned over Maka a little and let her voice drop to a secretive murmur. "Look at it this way: we are two women, you and I; you may be young, but you're too intelligent to let illogic, particularly men's illogic, come between us. I'm guessing that this is not the first time he has done this, and you're tired of seeing it. Isn't that so? But that should not make enemies of us. I'm here to help."  
  
The father couldn't be dealt with right now, but she would never have a better chance with the daughter. She was hurt and tired, a bit rattled from the accident. Her outward toughness was torn. If certain steps were followed, she'd respond to treatment.  
  
And if it went awry, well, it wasn't as if the girl herself was important. Once Medusa had accomplished her goals, Maka would be left behind with everyone else, wondering what on earth had gone wrong.  
  
"Yes," Maka blurted, visibly eager to end the disagreement. "I mean, I--you're not the one who...oof!" She breathed out hard. "No, I'm not mad at you. Of course not."  
  
Medusa let a big toothy smile crawl onto her face. "All right then. Shouldn’t we be friends?" She extended her hand to the girl and waited.  
  
Maka's face lit up with pleasure. "Yeah, of course!" They shook hands.  
  
"All right, the matter's settled. I'm glad. It's not pleasant when someone thinks you're trying to bring pain into their life. Now, could you sit up and turn around? As a friend, I can't let you leave until I've solved your other problem."  
  
"Oh? What's wrong?" Maka sounded unsure, but she complied, sitting up and folding her arms across her thin chest.  
  
Medusa moved to stand behind her, reached down to Maka's head, and began to tug her heavily-mussed ponytails free of their elastic bands. Once they were removed, she ran her fingers through the light brown mass, probing at Maka's scalp until she found a large, thickly felted tangle.  
  
"I don't think I hit my head..."  
  
"It's your hair. There's a knot here as big as a mouse. You must have been ignoring it for days."  
  
"Oh," Maka said guiltily. "That. I forgot to brush my hair a couple of times last week. I tried some conditioner, but...I was just going to cut it all off."  
  
"No, you can't do that, it would show. What would your mother think when she saw you with your nice pretty hair sticking up?"  
  
There was a long and telling silence. "My mother went away. She's not living here anymore."  
  
"Oh-h," Medusa cooed. "Oh, I am so very sorry. I had no idea."  
  
"Nah, it's okay. So, um. Are you going to cut it? I guess you could do a better job than I could. I can't see back there."  
  
"Oh no, I’m going to use an old trick. I’ll pour some mineral oil onto it, and that will make it slippery enough to comb out. But it will hurt. Do you still want me to try?"  
  
Maka did, and Medusa soaked the tangle with oil and began working the comb through the edges. It was tedious work, requiring patience from both of them, and she passed the time by asking the squirming girl some questions. How long had she been at Shibusen? When had she first known she had a technician’s abilities? Who were the strongest young students that she knew of, and how often did her father work with Lord Death? That last inquiry made Maka slump under Medusa’s hands, and her voice became faintly sullen, so Medusa changed the subject to happier things.  
  
Maka was happily babbling about various history books by the time Medusa had worked out the worst of the knot. It was the flood of talk released when a loner was listened to, Medusa mused. It was almost enough to make her feel a little pity.  
  
"I know I'm not really strong or physically fit and stuff," Maka said, "But you know what, I bet I've studied hard enough to make up for it. Some of it anyway! There was a technician 50 years ago, back when people still had polio, she had to train to swordfight in a leg brace. But she nabbed seven witches before she'd even gotten her 63rd human soul. She was just that good at detective work and psychology and tactics. Can you believe it? Seven! You only have to kill one!"  
  
Medusa sank the comb's teeth into the last of the knot and pulled so hard that it bent Maka's neck back in an arch. Maka cried out, more startled than anything else, and grabbed the table to keep herself from falling over backwards. Medusa gave a last fierce yank and the comb came away with a hank of hair trailing from it. Her face was dark with grinning hate; for a moment the woman did not even look human.  
  
"Whoof!" Maka gasped, leaning forward. "Is it over?"  
  
"Just about."  
  
Medusa had gathered the girl's hair into a ponytail, holding it close to the base of the skull. Maka sensed something strange in the woman's voice, and tried to turn around, but found herself held as Medusa stroked her hair. "Oh, well," Maka said uncertainly, "That's good. That last one, that really hurt!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Medusa smiled. "I thought it would give way more easily."  
  
"Ha! Well, it’s over; never mind. I guess you deserve to pull my hair, after the way I acted!" She felt at the area and then began to rebuild her twin ponytails. "It's really gone! Thanks, I can't believe I let it go that long."  
  
Medusa said, "Yes, it's best to eliminate problems when they're small."  
  
She handed Maka a bag of ointments and bandages, told her how to change the dressing on her leg, and shooed her out into the corridor. Medusa watched her bounce away down the hallway, hair swinging, a tiny, arrogant, ignorant, irritating enemy.  
  
“But sometimes you just have to wait,” she said softly.


End file.
